Bound to Blood
by vvrules21
Summary: Ludwig is first in line for ruling Germania. Feliciano is first in taking over his Grandfather's power over the Roman Empire. They are forced to hate each other because of their own fates, but how can they? Who should they follow, their family or themselves? Gerita Slash Yaoi GermanyxN.Italy LudwigxFeliciano Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys! This is my first Hetalia fan fiction and the plot is inspired (but not a total copy) of Lion King 2!

Hope you guys enjoy!

I do not own the characters.

* * *

His bare little feet scampered on the dirt, clouds of brown flakes spraying his feet. He giggled with a mix of excitement and pride. He was actually following through with his self made promise. Waking up as dawn's fingertips painted the sky, slipping down the stairs of their home trying painfully hard not to make a sound, and finally running outside past the yard and past the gate into the rough ground of the large town.

Feliciano Vargas was not a troublemaker, rebel, or bad boy like his brother sometimes was. He was the polar opposite of Lovino, always listening to Romulus and never, not once, breaking the elder's rules.

Knowing that what he was doing was so spontaneous and heinous made his little ten year old heart thump faster and his feet scurry. His amber colored eyes dazzled with the reflections of the wonderous objects in the trade market.

He ran inside, his head tilting this way and that to look attentively at the foreign items and bargaining men. None paid him any mind, especially with his small height. He walked with a slow stride, wanting to take in as much as the busy atmosphere as possible.

He walked just staring at everything with awe, his smile still effortlessly pulled together in childlike wonder, past several booths before bee-lining for his favorite shop.

The man that owned it was helping another man when he approached the stand. He caught the owner's eyes and in Italian the stout man politely ended their conversation.

"Prince Feliciano? What are you doing here by yourself? Did your grandfather send you here to buy some pasta?" He gave a hearty laugh; the child returned it with a blinding smile and a hesitant nod.

"Si, Nonno told me to come and get some spaghetti and tomato sauce, but he gave me no money." He frowned in a pout and looked up with saucers for eyes. There was a small grain of mischief in them.

The owner swallowed thickly and shook his head briefly as if struggling with a decision. Then with a tight smile that pulled the flabs of his pudgy face unappealingly, he nodded.

"Okay my boy. Here," He scooped some of the dry strands of pasta into a cloth bag along with a glass jar of tomato sauce. He handed the bag to Feli's stubby hands.

"Grazi!" he said with a cheer filled visage. Then he started to skip off further down the street.

"Tell your grandfather Nicholi says hello!" He heard the man call behind him, but all the voices around him faded it out.

The rushed hustle and bustle of the bazaar was so thrilling for little Feliciano. All the voices, the brightening of a stranger's face after they purchase something of interest or the satisfactory grin of a shop owner who had earned their revenue. Everyone was happy, just like they should be.

He hummed as he frolicked down the cobblestones, loving the feel of the warm air with the aura of wheat and smoke.

"_stronzetto_!" A deep voice rumbled to his side. He stopped to a questioning halt with furrowed brows and an open mouth. His eyes wondered the area to see the familiar silver-reflecting surface of a guard's uniform. In the brawny man's hand was a boy who looked to be his age, only taller and blonde.

The guard started to curse more in Italian while the boy tried pulling away. He could see the blonde boy's mouth moving, but he couldn't understand the language, he calculated that the boy was a foreigner of some sort.

He did understand that when a guard pulls out a knife that something bad is about to happen.

"Hey!" Feliciano charged forward and frantically pulled on the guard's elbow, before it sliced through the air. The man's head snapped furiously to Feliciano and in recognition, his eyes widened and his sneer fell.

"What is going on here?" His tiny voice demanded, trying to imitate the way his grandfather orders people around. The guard fell to one knee and bowed in respect.

He kept his eyes trained on the kneeling man, but he could see in his peripheral that the boy was staring at him. The brunette child straightened his back and lifted his chin in confidence.

"This outsider was caught walking in public with out papers, Prince." He said respectively and his head stayed down, but his hands warily fisted the drapery of his uniform laying on his lap.

The brunette tapped his helmet with the palm of his hand and huffed in a breath. "He is my friend visiting from uh," For the first time his eyes locked with the cold blue gawk across from him. He scanned his appearance, his eyes sliding over his rigid form, then looked back at the guard. "…from the north. He wondered off and got lost."

Surprising the already perplexed boy even more, he grabbed his hand curtly. The taller looked at their interlocked hands then to the strange boy in front of him. Feliciano smiled giddily.

"Well we must be going now! Come along friend!" Before the kneeling man got to his feet, he shot off pulling the blonde boy with him. He ran far down the streets to get as far away from the guard as possible. He laughed his childish heartwarming laugh, confusing the stoic blonde boy to the brink.

He slowed to a stop when they reached the beach, one of his favorite places to be. The hurried tang in the traders market shifted to a relaxed sooth of waves of sand and seawater. He hadn't realized that his hand was still in the stranger's, but he didn't very much care.

The taller wrenched his hand away, his face heating with silent irritation. His mouth opened to start a string of curses, but it snapped shut when those earnest and pure amber eyes were sealed on his again.

"_Parli italiano_?"

The taller didn't acknowledge the question, looking at Feli with a scowl of confusion. He took that as his answer.

"Okay how about English?" He drawled out the words cautiously.

The boy nodded slowly, the stern look on his face perpetual. The Prince studied the stranger more intently. He was an anomaly to what Feli was used to. It was nearly impossible to tell what the boy was thinking or even feeling. He couldn't decipher if he was angry or just very serious. His blond strands were fallen to frame his face in an organized chaotic fashion. His chin was hard, like the rest of his facial structure and his eyes were dead cold. Beautiful, but cold.

Silently, the taller turned to leave breaking Feliciano out of his examining.

"Ve! I'm Feliciano Vargas, Prince of the Roman Empire!" He said with an eager excitement, forcing his hand into the other's from behind for the second time that day. The foreigner turned and with more ferocity pulled it out of his grasp. Still silent.

The Prince frowned. "Um, What's your name?" Then like magic, his smile reappeared.

The blonde blinked at him. At a first perspective it looked like he was refusing to answer.

"I'm Ludwig Beilschmidt, son of Folkert Beilschmidt. Prince of Germania." He muttered, his eyes cast to his feet.

Feliciano pursed his lips in deep thought. His head turned to the glittering water and the roused sun.

To Ludwig, Feliciano's eyes reflected the sun's color more vibrantly. Just like the first time they landed on his azure ones, his heart skipped in his chest. They even shone as bright as the sun.

He dropped his bag of pasta ingredients and turned back to his friend with a look that had a playful idea incased in the flamboyant features.

"Oh, I know! Do you want to chase me? I'm very good at running away!" He squealed happily then started bouncing away without letting the other Prince answer.

Ludwig was flabbergasted, he looked at the boy running away and gesturing him to follow. "Come on Ludwig! Try and catch me!" Then his smile beamed as bright as the sky. The sun and the sky all painted on the palette of this boy's face.

His jog sped into a full out run when he saw his new friend running faster as well. The Italian's laugh was contagious and Ludwig couldn't help but giggle from afar as he ran faster.

"Can't get me!" He shouted tauntingly. The two princes started sprinting and soon Ludwig was gaining on the brunette. Only a number of steps behind.

He timed his position, his speed, and his agility correctly and in one rapidly swift move he lunged at Feliciano, bringing both of their chortling selves to the soft sand below.

"I got you!" The taller said in between his loud heaving titters. The caramel eyed boy screeched with laughter. Using the element of surprise he pushed Ludwig off and pinned him to the sand, the small particles spilling everywhere, but going unnoticed.

"Nuh uh! I got-"

"FELICIANO VARGAS!" The bellowing voice of his grandfather shouted above him. He went to twist his torso, but a strong hand latched his collar and pulled him into the air. He had no time to protest before he was being incarcerated within the King's arms.

"LUDWIG BEILSCHMIDT!" Another voice boomed in front of Feliciano, he looked up to see a long blonde haired man with the same eyes as his new friend's picking Ludwig up and into his own arms.

He gave a strong glare into Romulus' eyes, one that made both Princes' heart drop with dread.

"What was your filthy grandchild doing on top of my Ludwig?" His bitter tone made Feli curl into his grandfather's arms. He felt the vibration of a growl in his Nonno's chest.

"My grandson was doing nothing! It was your frisky, indignant pig of a grandson that pinned my sweet Feli first!" He snapped with a tone that Feliciano had never heard. Had never wanted to hear.

"Nonno w-we were just playing…" The child whimpered trying to get his elder's attention.

"Hush Feliciano!" He barked at his grandson without looking away from Folkert's accusing orbs.

Ludwig could see from his own Vati's arms that his new friend was getting upset. There were shiny tears falling from his breathtaking eyes. It made Ludwig genuinely hurt.

"No, we were playing a game, Vati!" He spoke, but only received a gruff grunt.

"I thought after your irresponsible disagreement between our councils, you would leave!" Romulus pushed on, keeping his stand still. He could see the flush of anger on his enemy's cheeks.

"Trust me Vargas, I want to leave this hell hole as soon as possible, but because of my idiotic grandchild, I was forced to actually breath this putrid air until I could find him!" He countered back.

"Then leave," Romulus whispered with a snarl loud enough for the Germanians to hear.

"And I don't want to see that-that _pervert_ever come near my Feliciano ever again!"

"But grandpa!" Feliciano pleaded, but the quick turn of his rage fueled eyes told him to stay quiet.

"I hope your empire along with your grandchildren burn." Folkert said with cruel honestly laced in his words. Ludwig gasped, but covered his mouth.

And before his grandpa could turn, he looked at the other whimpering boy.

Together they mouthed a hushed goodbye.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry about the short chapter, just wanted to get this on as a separate chapter. :P

* * *

"B-But he was kind!" Ludwig struggled with Folkert's monstrous grip on his much smaller form.

He didn't understand what was so wrong for him to do something as innocent as play with Feliciano. They were not hurting anyone nor breaking any rules. Just simple childish antics. He actually liked Feliciano. It was nice being with him. His personality was lovable and reflected onto his face wonderfully. His smile was forever imprinted into his memory and in the back of his head he couldn't stop thinking about it. It was marvelous. Better than any piece of art he had ever seen.

Now for some unknown reason he wont be able to see it again. Not only is he forbidden to see the Italian, he is now leaving to go back to his homeland. All the chances of contacting Feliciano were ruined into the dust. The swelling in his chest and the burning of his eyes furthered his confusion.

Folkert looked down at the begging child. His firm demeanor softening to a painful empathetic knitting of brows. He knelt down on the cobble stone road, becoming eye to eye with the boy. His hand gently rested on Ludwig's slumped shoulder.

He sighed incredulously, but his eyes were drawn to an understanding sadness. "He is nice, but only for now Ludwig. His father is a…" His azure gaze rolled to the ebony sky, thinking of an answer.

"…a bad man. He isn't smart and makes immature and hasty decisions. He is selfish and that will be passed on to his heirs. Do you understand?"

Ludwig rubbed his nose, but no tears fell. He willed them to just stay trapped in his eyes and let them just burn. He had seen Vati do this before, when his parents had left. He could remember how much he and Gilbert had sobbed and wailed, but there was Folkert. Dry cheeks, wet eyes.

His Vati was smart, strong, and a leader. What he was saying was true and he would follow his word. Its the only thing he knew how to do. It was what he was _supposed_to do.

His matching eyes lifted with a determined agreement. "Yes Vati."

Feliciano's laugh was still ringing in his ears like music.

"Nonno! I was playing-"

"Not another word Feliciano Vargas!" Romulus roared at the child in his private chambers. He was pacing in front of his own bed, the boy sitting on the edge, knees curled underneath him.

Feliciano was already balling his little heart out. Ludwig had been the first boy his age he had ever met that wasn't Lovino. He was having fun. He wasn't preparing to be a king. He wasn't being pampered. He wasn't making any decisions for the future. For a few minutes, he wasn't even a Prince.

He was Feliciano Vargas playing with Ludwig Beilschmidt.

So why is that so wrong? Why was he being punished? What was so wrong about being…him?

Why was it wrong for him to be Feliciano and not Prince Feliciano?

…And why was it so bad that he was Feliciano Vargas _with_Ludwig Beilschmidt?

"Why can't I play with my new friend, Nonno?" His squeaky voice halted the King's footsteps. Romulus looked at the young child with an indecisive expression. He carefully chose is words, then stepped forward, his large tan hand ruffling Feli's hair light heartedly.

His hand slid down to wipe the fat drops of tears away and breathed out calmingly. "You see Feli, Ludwig and his grandpa are…bad people. They didn't agree to my rules about some serious things. Now because of them we might not be able to expand our own empire to Turkey."

When he plopped his hefty self on the bed, it made the smaller boy wobble from the shift of weight. He conjoined his hands together and folded them on his lap. Then he turned to see if Feliciano had processed any of that.

The absent minded frown said it all.

"Okay lets put it this way. Do you think I'm a good King?"

Feli jumped to his feet on the bed, bouncing on the balls of his heels. With a confident and positive beam he shouted merrily.

"You are better than good! You are the best! Your are the greatest King of the Roman Empire!"

Romulus laughed with pride, turning his torso he wrapped his masculine arms around Feli's bony legs and playfully slammed him on the bed. Their giggles echoed down the hall, disturbing some of the maids and workers from their sleep.

"So then what would you say to anyone who thought otherwise?"

He turned onto his back, his hands grabbing the boy's sides and lifting him above his own body. With amazing strength he threw the squealing brunette into the air and repeated once he would land back in his grip.

"I'll throw pasta at them and show no mercy waving my white flag!"

"Eh…close enough."

His arms started to ache, Romulus dropped his grandson next to him. The tittering boy flailed for a second then stilled, his chuckled swaying to a happy hum.

They lay on the bed, shoulder to shoulder, elder to younger, leader to follower, grandfather to grandchild, and King to Prince.

"Feliciano, you will never ever associate with Ludwig. Okay?" The elder's tone took on a serious note.

Feli's smile melted into a deep frown. His sunshine bright eyes casted to the floor on the side of the bed. Suddenly he wasn't so happy anymore. He was just reminded to him that he had certain duties...and sacrifices come within these duties.

With an agonizingly strained cracking voice he forced himself to answer.

"Yes Nonno." The words tasted bitter at the back of his tongue.

And he could see those icy blue eyes staring back at him when he closed his eyes to drive back the tears.


	3. Chapter 3

"And you are sure of this?" Folkert's forehead shined of sweat. His whole body starting to wrack under the upcoming stress of the situation. The man nodded with a terrified mumble.

He turned angrily and started leafing through the maps and papers on his desks. Numbers and words all spilling through them, but no answers or plans.

"This can not be. We-we will never be able to hold off his armies..." He uttered desperately. "Guard," He turned, the messenger's shoulders shot back to stiffen his stance.

"Go get the commander of the army. Tell him it is urgent!" He watched as the uniformed man saluted then ran off to fetch his grandson.

"Come on Luddyyyy!" Gilbert drew the nickname tauntingly.

Ludwig rolled his eyes, but did not back down from the bet, he took the never-ending glass of beer and balanced it on his lips, slowly they parted. His eyes narrowed down the bridge of his nose to keep watch of the swimming fish. He tipped his head back rather than the glass as to keep the fish away from his lips. It was so close to finishing, the fish coming close to his open mouth.

The men in the bar all looked on with wide eyed awe. They started cringing as the fish came in close contact with the very edge of the glass, but before it could be drained any further the door slammed open and shot everyone out of their trance.

"Commander! The King has called for you, its an emergency!"

The bottom of the glass rang as it met the bar table with force, the fish inside now completely motionless. "Bruder it was fun, but duty calls. " He impishly slapped the Albino's shoulder, and then sauntered to the door following the guard out. Gilbert looked at the dead fish at the bottom of the glass and snorted. He suddenly knew how it felt like to be treated like a dead fish.

Folkert stood over the desk, his eyes trained on the words 'Roman Empire'. The grip on the edge of the table curled tighter instantly. He didn't lift his head when he heard the creak of the door.

"What's the emergency sir?" Ludwig mimicked his grandfather and hunched over the map, studying it attentively.

"The Romans are planning to take our Empire." He left no room for sympathetic words, only a blunt truth. "We wont be able to fight them. Not with the size of their military now that they took Greece."

Ludwig stilled, his nostrils flaring.

Folkert still hadn't looked at him instead he pushed away and moved back to his own desk looking at some wrinkled and gathered papers. The dishevelment was evidence to his helpless need for a plan.

The young Aryan looked to the back of his grandfather and furrowed his brows. He wasn't spouting ideas or ruses…no the elder was just silent. A thought filled silence that may mean something.

"You have a plan, don't you?" He asked with a timid hesitation. Unsure if he was correctly reading the King.

The pause between them was strained and hard.

Folkert grabbed something off of his own table. "If we can not infiltrate them head on…"

He sped to the table that held the map and in a fluid motion he swiped the paper off, it fell to the floor in a crumpled fold. A poster was slammed by his withered hand in the map's place.

"…Then we will infiltrate them in the head."

It was no surprise that Ludwig hid his perplexed gasp and shock.

The poster surly did not show the beauty of Feliciano's eyes as well as he had witnessed those years ago.

_A mole inside the Roman capital has informed me everything and all that is needed to know about the Prince._

"Idiot! Where are you going this early?" Lovino barked from his room's window. He could see his twin just at the metal barriers of their home, slipping out.

Feliciano sighed in a hinted irritancy. Knowing how ornery his brother could be he started to worry that he was going to tell Romulus. He turned back and waved a good morning to his fratello. "I am just going to the barn, Lovi! I'll be back soon!"

Before his brother could start on a bucket of curses and threats he snuck out and started sprinting to the barn, it was a while away, but he loved seeing the animals. He cared for them incredibly.

_Feliciano Vargas has a schedule. Every dawn he visits an animal holding barn…right…here. Take the oil the night before and drench the whole structure. Then hide and wait. _

The caws and calls of the animals coming from the aged wooden building brought a loving smile to him. He walked to the side of the barn and feebly lifted a haystack for the horses. His eyes roamed to the sky and he frowned at the coming grey clouds, the sound of thunder only a distance away.

He used one hand to fish out the bronze key from his pocket, after finding it he unlocked the door, trying to keep the hay in his grasp, not wanting to drop the hay in the dirt. The animals in their separate stalls all rustled and whined. His frown indented his soft face. This was odd, the animals typically calmed when he would enter. They never made such a ruckus, as if something had spooked them.

He sighed; maybe it was just the rain.

Using a heaving force he dropped the haystack in the stall and over the gate that held three horses. He could make his out amongst the ones of his brother and grandfather's. His horse had a lighter beige of a coat and a distinct black oval on it's snout. He reached his hand out, his arm lying on the very rim of the gate, caringly he caressed the soft ebony hairs on the animal.

He looked at the far back where his very own lamb lay. He smiled again and hurried off to her own stall, he opened the gate and sat on the straw covered floor. The little lamb stumbled on to its legs for the first time in its short life.

"That's it! Now walk to me!" He cheered it on, its legs crossing over one another, but it eventually fell into a balanced rhythm. It walked all the way across the stall and into Feliciano's waiting arms.

"Yay! Good job!" The little lamb curled on his lap, resting its small head on her tiny hooves. He lightly pet her baby head and felt a spring of pride for the helpless lamb.

_Then burn it._

Ludwig flicked the match, peaking in from one of the boards at the boy. He hadn't had a good look of him, but he could see the unmistakable brown hair and the little curl that always stood out amongst the there strands.

He took a deep breath and lit the rag on fire, he placed it in the bottle and threw it down the side of the farm.

_Remember to get him out of there._

He couldn't explain it. There was a sound of something breaking from the outside. It interrupted his daydream, next were the sounds of the chickens squawking and the horses crying, but he could still hear the thundering of his own racing heart in his ears.

Then the whole side of the building was engulfed in a swarm of flames.

"No…" Smoke filled the air and he hadn't realized it, but he was clinging to the baby lamb. The animals were all frantic now.

He jumped over the gate and got to the next pen, unlatching the wooden gate to let the pregnant cow out. He moved it along by pushing it's side, but he could only do so much with one arm.

The smoke was blurring his visions and both of his hands were too occupied to cover his mouth. The roof was now caving from the unmerciful flames.

"Help! Someone please help!" He cried out, using all the strength he could muster to break open the chicken's pen. Once it was he wasted no time moving to the oxen's stall.

His mind fogged like the smoke, he was feeling dizzy and soon he was struggling opening the horse's own gate.

The young man let out a shrill scream as the metal seared his hand. Forcing the sudden blackness away, he kicked the gate open with his foot at an uncharacteristic amount of strength. The horses ran out through the door and into the outside. He pulled the lamb to his chest and held his breath.

He pushed through the smoke and he could see the light from the outside, it stood vibrant from the bright orange.

There was no warning, but he saw with the flick of his eye the roof giving just above the entrance. With his hazy mind and slow reflexes he wasn't going to make it. It was inevitable for the roof to either block him in or crush him. The smoke clogged his lungs and he could slowly feel the thudding in his chest dull. He couldn't let out the held breath.

In a hasty decision he tossed the baby lamb out the door with the rest of his energy along with it. She landed on the dirty ground with a small whine.

Just as it fell to safety the roof came crashing down, causing him to recoil as far back as possible and deeper into the flames. He fell on his back, not being able to get back up.

The smoke was so thick, the flames were so hot that he couldn't even coherently think about his progressing death.

There was only a hazy orange and a swallowing black.

And before he passed out he could see a brilliant blue.

_You need to earn Romulus' trust, learn his tactics, and then Germania will remain safe._

Ludwig used the mallet on the farm grounds to break the burning wood of the building. He created a hole big enough to let him in, but small enough to force him to crawl in.

He held his torn cloth over his mouth and nose, narrowing and squinting his eyes to see through the smoke.

There was a deafening crash from the very front of the building.

He moved toward it, praying the boy didn't get flattened. There was a movement in front of him and he could see the shape of a figure lying splayed on the floor.

He sped his pace and stood over the injured boy, in response to his sudden unveiling the prince weakly moaned and tried keeping his head stiff, but as he fell into unconsciousness his head lolled to the side lifelessly.

Bending his knees Ludwig snaked his arm under Feli's neck and the other under his legs. With a grunt he picked him up, his neck hanging off of Ludwig's arm lazily.

The blonde's head snapped side to side looking for an exit. He growled deeply in the pit of his throat. In a great force of anger and desperation he ran toward the opening only to see the burning debris of wood blockading it.

So he took another initiative.

He ran faster than an Olympian to the hole he had made.

He saw it coming up, the dim light and pouring rain leaking inside.

Ludwig sprinted in a blur straight for the wall.

The very last second he twisted his torso and slammed the side of his whole left half into the weakened wood, where it all crumpled to pieces.

He got far away from the burning building, looking back only once then to the mewling boy in his arms.

_Earn their trust_

The dirt swirled at his feet as he took off to the Vargas home.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the wait! I just moved so I've been really busy :P

Also school and crap.

* * *

His youthful features had creased lines of worry etching his obvious anxiety for his military strategic plan. It had been perfected to the last soldier, but he still held doubts. His army was strong and his weaponry was stronger. Germania though, held more intelligent tactics and tricks. Past experiences can only say.

He moved his eyes from each print and sketch of the machinery in his soldier's possession, studying each wire and piece that created the posterity of destruction. Romulus knew it was vital to his Empire's expansion to take time on gauging each microscopic detail in complete focus. It was his duty as an Emperor to create a concrete plane for the Roman Empire.

The frantic knocking at the front door halted the in depth study and urgently pulled him into the reality that was his family. The thumping at the door became more fast and hard that he could hear it from his own study at the third level of the house. He looked at his own door with a wrinkled scowl, the hysterical call of the maid had dissembled the grimace into a panicked wide eyed expression. He sprinted out the room and trudged down the stairs with a prepared curled fist.

The sight was appalling.

He blinked several times at the image. His own Grandson in the arms of a stranger. Burnt black marking his tanned skin, several cuts littering his small frame, and gurgled blisters blooming from the palms of his hands.

"Feli…" He whispered with a disbelieved breath.

The blazing azure of the stranger had pushed onto his, a plea obvious from the knitting of his brows. "Please sir, there was a fire at a barn." The blonde had spoke with a polite beg.

Romulus didn't get the time to become embarrassed by his lack of reaction before he was tugging Feliciano out of the man's arms and sprinting down a corridor to one of his medical rooms. He lied his Grandchild on the wooden board and took out the proper tools for burns.

Ludwig followed the emperor to his medical chamber, noticing how the elder had not spotted him in the room with him. He watched as the older brunette worked with a desperation that brought a bitter burn to his heart. Almost a guilt, though the sight of the King had covered it with a disgusted hatred.

"_Oh Dio, Per favore. Per favore._" Romulus mumbled as his hands searched helplessly for the strength of the boy's heartbeat.

The beating was weak, but existent.

It was painful, yet gratifying, to bandage his wounds. They were the only marks on the Italian's body visibly, internally though, he knew that time could only tell if what he had done had been enough.

He looked down at the gently twitching features of his grandson's face, brushing the single curled hair out of his face with a light hand. He took a deep breath, his eyes shutting then almost immediately snapping open to the sound of another breath in the room.

His body turned accusingly and with a fierce glare he rumbled toward the blonde near the door. "_Tu! Sei un idiota stupido bastardo assassino!_"

Ludwig's collar was bunched in the angered King's fists and he was dragged up the door, his back scraping heavily against the wood and his feet dangling just above the ground. He saw it coming, but kept his defenses down, allowing the man to spit Italian curses in his face.

Romulus pulled him forward then slammed his whole body against the frame of the door once again, Ludwig barely reacted, keeping his face stoic and hands on the royal's wrists. From the words the brunette kept repeating, Ludwig could tell he was fuming quickly by the lack of reply.

"I do not speak Italian your highness, I can not understand you!" He roared in justification.

The accent did not help quench his growing fury, only pouring more oil in the flames. The simple pronunciation of his tongue had drilled deceitful theories about why the man was here. The solution that had come to the Roman whilst holding the foreigner by his throat was simple. He had to have been a spy.

"You did this! You started the fire! You tried to kill him!" With each shout, Ludwig's head snapped back and hit the wood of the door sharply. His fingers were indenting the wrist of the feverish man, the pain starting to unravel his coiled up anger.

Feliciano's whole body felt brittle, little sockets of pain prickling his skin in burning sears. There was a hot white ache throbbing in both of his hands. He held them open to the cool air, extra wary of moving them or his fingers. The thick fog clouded his memories for a coherent explanation as to why. Slowly his senses came to him and he could finally recognize the familiar thunder of his Nonno's shout.

His eyes were wet with tears and as they opened some lagged down his face into his hair. He could see the dim graying light of the clouded sky reflect off some glass casings next to him. His eyes felt like ten ton weights as he gathered his thoughts. He couldn't register why he was in pain let alone how he had gotten home.

"Nien! I did nothing! I am innocent!" Ludwig growled through his clenched teeth. His jaw tensed even more as his skull met the door once more, his patience was thinning quickly.

"I will have you hung! I will have you tortured then killed! I will kill-"

"No-Nonno?" The tiny hoarse voice had little sound to it, but it rang through the medical room like a deafening shriek.

Ludwig's feet were slapped to the floor and his collar was absent from any choking grip. He looked to the two similar men on the table and narrowed his eyes. He could only see the elder's silk worn back along with his heaving shoulders as he held the boy in an urgent embrace. It was putrid watching something as simple as a hurt grandchild reduce an all-powerful Emperor to tears. Restraining his chuckle, he shook his head and stood patiently waiting for the two to part.

Romulus had Feliciano pulled deeply into his chest, keeping him safe from anything outside of his arms. His head was buried deeply on the top of the boy's fluff of hair and he wept unashamed. Feli was hurting horribly, but the sound of his grandfather's cry kept him silent.

Finally he pulled away, turning back to the intruder with the same dirtied look, only with hurt tear tracks down his cheekbones. Without taking his eyes off the man, he addressed his grandson. "Feli, tell me the truth. Did this man set the barn on fire?"

Even though his whole body and every part of his being hurt with an excruciating pulsation, Feliciano could distinguish the odd swelling of his chest when he looked into his savior's eyes. His mouth opened to answer the abruptly forgotten question, but he was lost. The blonde held him in some trance that he hadn't even noticed he was in until his Grandfather slapped the blunt of his shoulder bone.

"I…n-no," He forced his head to tip upward to look at his Grandfather. "No he saved me Grandpa. I was trapped and he came in after I called for help."

His grandfather's angered exterior did not fall; he was not convinced.

Ludwig was surprised he had not melted into the floor when he had finally looked at the boy. His heart raced through his chest and suddenly a thin sheet of sweat had spurred to the surface of his face. Feliciano was more gorgeous than the first time and like the first time they had met, he couldn't stop thinking of his eyes. They were extraordinary and embarrassingly so they created a time shift in his own head. He became so unfocused and disoriented.

"Grandpa, the lightning struck the barn. I'm sure of it." He looked back at Ludwig, daring his eyes to find the blonde's.

"I owe this man my life."


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for the short chapter. I just wanted to get something out for you guys, i promise next chapter will have a crap load of Gerita :3

* * *

Ludwig swallowed the clogging anxiety in his throat, the door slamming shut above him making his usually cool composure more frenzied. The following thumps of heavy footsteps didn't ease his racing mind either.

He straitened to his full height, unknowingly raising his chin while hoping the small beads of sweat went unnoticed. The maids working around him and even the guards securing his personal bubble visibly stiffened as their King strode into the foyer. His face pulled in an indecisive, yet stern, scowl.

"You are from _Germania_, no?" He asked frankly. Ludwig withheld his anger at the way the man spat his empire's name with candid vulgarity. Instead letting it boil into his curled fists.

He hesitantly nodded, eyes unmoving.

"What is your name?" Oddly his tone held a true curiosity, instead of an interrogating suspicion. However his dark brown eyes roamed over his face, reading it with intent. Ludwig narrowed his eyes and began to feel slightly irritated being probed with bias judgment.

"Ludwig Beilschmidt." Sometimes telling the truth in a lie can make it all that more believable. After hours of arguing with his grandfather about his identity, they had come to a (hopefully) rational conclusion that it would be to their advantage to show himself as an honest humanitarian.

He stood, his feet glued to their place, waiting for a retort. Romulus only looked at him, his eyes now staring through his own. Suddenly he felt more vulnerable, deciding that he'd much rather prefer the way Romulus was staring at him before. The depth in the older, faintly wrinkled eyes held no mercy for him and he knew that maybe it was a mistake to give away his true identity.

But Romulus said nothing and remained motionless. No surprise, anger, or even confusion, just innate curiosity. It was almost like the way Feliciano had looked at him when they had first met, only the boy's questioning interest was more innocent.

The blonde cleared his throat, taking gain of the silence to explain himself. "I…left my grandfather after he had started to plan a…cruel attack on your people in Carthage. He was going to slaughter everyone there just to send a message to you. I came in w-warning." His face turned stony.

Romulus' face softened, but his eyebrows stayed furrowed. He hummed with amusement, obviously adding a satirical loom to his disbelief. "I'm sure that the great Folkert would allow his _best_commander leave so easily. Knowing him, you either had to have faked your death or you actually did die," He gestured with a wave to the maids and strangely the guards as well to send them off.

When it was only the two of them left in the grand foyer, he continued. "But you seemed to be unscathed. Why is this?" He queried with a cock of his head.

Ludwig let out a breath through his nostrils, letting them flare widely. "He had ordered me on a mission with my troops through the Alps," He looked at the floor with a false mourn to his features, "The majority of them had died off either through freezing or starving. The rest had gotten taken capture by some of your soldiers. I managed to escape and then came here," Ludwig finished with an incomplete silence.

He lifted his head and with a determined inhale he breathed his words out. "I then came here in hopes to find you, tell you all I know…and be accepted into your land."

Romulus' sigh was hard to decipher as disappointment in himself, but from the way he looked at Ludwig with a forced stare, he knew that he had the old man in the palm of his hand.

"You may stay, but you will remain under my watch until I deem you fit to be trustworthy."

Ludwig offered a tight smile of gratitude and bowed in respect. "Thank you, your highness. I promise I will not do anything to betray your trust."

"I certainly hope not. For your sake than mine Ludwig," He motioned for the Aryan to follow. "Come. I'll show you to where you will be staying."

They climbed the stairs, Ludwig couldn't resolve if the tension was one sided, but he was positive it was there between them. "You will be staying in the room connecting between Lovino and Feliciano's room. I trust that they will be keeping a keen eye on you, of course taking after their Nonno." He tittered with a light feathery laugh.

"Feli is sleeping and Lovino is out with his friend, Antonio, so I will have some of my men stand at your door." All traces of humor were dissolved into a serious demeanor. He led them inside the luxurious room, furnished with polished auburn wood and fine silk covers and window drapes.

"The wardrobe is filled with spare clothing from some of the guards, so they should fit you. If you choose to leave anywhere you must be accompanied by one of my sons or a guard," He stood in the doorway, watching the blonde look around the room with a raised brow.

"Also," He added, making Ludwig turn his attention toward him, "If I find out that you intentionally tried to hurt Feliciano and that includes what happened today, the punishment will be so indescribable that even death will be a miracle for you." He growled his promise.


	6. Chapter 6

Okay So SO SO sorry for the wait. I just want you guys to know that i will NEVER neglect this story until i am DONE with it :)

Im going to try my damned hardest to get at least one update a week :))

* * *

Ludwig stood motionless staring at the door that was equally if not more motionless. He gaped in silence, the light from the afternoon sun obscuring the whole room with a yellowish orange, the shadows casting around him from the lavish furnisher slowly disappeared as clouds passed.

Was he truly inside the Vargas' home? It was that simple? It had only taken less than ten minutes to convince the king himself to let him into his home, barely any threats or negotiations exchanged. Ludwig couldn't be honestly sure as to if he should be skeptical or elated. Going with the latter he sighed along with the slow slumping of his shoulders.

With disinterest he rested on the bed, his shoulder ached though with the amount of pressure he had forced on it, saving the Italian boy's life. Even after he was the one to put it in danger in the first place…

He regarded highly the boy's eyes for the uncountable time that day. They were so honey-like, sweet with a glow to them that illuminated his whole face and exterior. The boy had come to his defense that day, a complete stranger. It was the second time the brunette had saved Ludwig's life. Now all he was doing was finding a way to sabotage his home.

He couldn't think like that though. It would cost him his own life, his grandfather's too. If an empire has to fall then let it be the Roman's. Germania has done nothing wrong and he objects to its demise.

He shut his eyes, letting his imagination wonder to what Romulus' reaction would be to the devastating news of his land dwindling before he could do anything to stop it. He imagined the man falling to his trembling knees at his Vati's feet and groveling for help. He could hear the pitiful sobs escape the man, as Folkert would refuse, only fighting harder against the Roman Empire's weak point.

Practically tasting the satisfaction his Grandfather would give him, Ludwig sighed with the utmost content to reach his overworked mind. His life would incline only upward from the day he earns a new much more professional and respectable position under the rule of Folkert. His grandfather would be pride filled, his own blood taking down the great and all-powerful Roman Empire. It would bring his dying heart a joy that he had not felt since Ludwig's mother had bore him and his brother.

He drew in a breath and chuckled deeply, stopping with a snap of his eyes. The image of a crying Feliciano had somehow stumbled into his fantasy of success. The boy's sunburst eyes dark and damp with tears, his never falling smile twisted into a repugnant frown of a damaged heart. Most of all, the complete lost look on the boy's face that stirred a painful twizzle in his chest. It was odd how the guilt overtook him so powerfully, almost confusingly. _No_, he refused to let his emotions control his duties. He knows nothing about the boy, let alone care for him. They had only met once before and that wasn't even for a full day's outing. He had no excuse to be worried about what the little brat felt.

Feliciano was a pawn and no more to his family's—empire's plan. His main purpose is to help the Aryan with a welcoming invitation into Romulus' open arms. The sooner he earns Feliciano's trust, the sooner he receives Romulus'. It was a simple fluid motion and he cant risk any ripples in it, especially for something as trivial as the prince's _feelings_.

The gears of a bronze doorknob turning made him freeze in his bed, stiffly he sat up and looked to the door at the side of the room leading to the Vargas boys' room. With a quiet click the door opened and unveiled a freshly bathed Feliciano, clad in only his undergarments.

Ludwig gasped, flushed, and cringed all in a comical moment. His hand flew to his eyes and the red in his face deepened to an almost purplish hue. "Mien Gott! D-do you have no sense of decency?"

Feliciano's head tilted at an angle, thought filled for a moment as to what the distressed man was talking about, he looked down at his body and wrinkled his nose. "Ve? What? This is my home; I always dress like this. Is there something bad about it?"

Ludwig scoffed, the brunette was completely oblivious, and of course this was going to make Ludwig's life much harder. He stood up hurriedly from the bed and faced the opposing wall, his back to the confused Italian. "Yes there is something bad about it! Go-Go change into some proper clothing! I'm a stranger, you shouldn't—"

"You're not a stranger. You saved me! You're like a hero!" The bright voice exclaimed behind him.

"You don't know me, you dumkopf! Now go put on some pants!" He roared, finally turning around after he heard a mumbled apology and the shutting of the door. He sat on the bed and rolled his eyes, counting under his breath. The brief glimpse of the tan male was floating tauntingly in his mind, the sun-kissed skin glowing making his lean, almost feminine legs, look like liquified gold.

On cue the bubbly Italian bounced into the room, now dressed in a cloth short sleeved shirt, with some brown pants that cut off at the knee. Ludwig looked at him from his bed at the other side of the room, his eyes scrolling down his figure. He would have thought that the other would be attired in the finest silk, the most expensive of clothes, with the brightest of colors. But here he was dressed like any other lower class peasant.

The blonde had been too busy with his thoughts that he had only faintly noticed Feliciano moving closer to him, with careful baby steps. His head dipped forward with a passionate amount of curiosity. Ludwig's daze wore off when the boy was in arms reach. Those shimmering golden eyes staring down at him with a smile inside of their copper color.

He grunted and pulled his feet up on the bed, lying fully on his back, with his hands behind his head. "Whatever you want, make it fast. I'm tired." He ordered.

The azure eyes may have been closed, but he could hear the shuffling of feet near him and fidgeting of knuckles rubbing together in a nervous fashion. He wanted to roll his eyes at the pathetic fear reeking off of the royalty. "Ve~I just wanted to know what you want or what you like. Because how can I repay you with something you like if I don't know what you like?" The words were coated with a sweetness tainted by his beam. Ludwig snorted, not amused at all.

"I like to be left alone." He doesn't need to be friendly with the brunette yet, he had _just_saved him from a burning building, so he deserves some amount of rest.

"Then how can I repay you by leaving you alone? Do you like pasta?," He jumped on the end of the bed with his knees curled underneath him, making Ludwig's whole gigantic body shake along with the cushions underneath, "Oh! Maybe I can make pasta for you? Elizabeta says I make better pasta than any of the cooks!"

Ludwig ran a palm down his face, groaning and getting very irritated with the childlike antics. "Nien, I don't want pasta. Just go away!" His tongue snapped.

Feliciano looked perplexed with that naïve cocking of his head, he looked at Ludwig with no understanding to anything he said. The Aryan sighed harshly. "Fine. How about later you make me pasta. Now please—"

A lean mass tackled him back into the head of the bed, his mouth covered by a bronzed forearm, his pulsing neck embraced by the same tan arms, and his ears filled with an Italian accented squeal of appreciation. He was beginning to regret agreeing to something as mundane as pasta for dinner.

"Oh you will love my pasta! It is _delizioso_-," He stopped and the smile from his face distorted into a confused frown then he added "Ve! I forgot to ask for you name!"

Ludwig blinked, then his usual stoic undemanding glower came to front. "Ja, its Ludwig." He pointed his head away, finding the wall to his left more interesting.

The Italian's gasp sounded to his side and then he was being tackled to the bed for the second time in five minutes. In the moment filled with the irksome yapping, Ludwig could make out the withheld memory of when the boy had pinned him before as a child. That stirring of excitement and nostalgic happiness making butterflies in his chest. And absentmindedly his arms made to wind around the brunette, but halted before they could even touch the cloth on his back.

He snarled loudly and brought his arms to his chest, in between the centimeter of space Feliciano had given him, he heaved the hysterically giddy man off of him and glared as he fell on his behind on the wooden floor. Feliciano hit the floor with a yelp, the breath knocking out of him caused a few stray tears to fall, and he looked up at the blonde with hurt perplexity. Before he had a chance to take in what he had just done, Ludwig calmed his growing anger with hard breaths and clamped eyelids. He forced himself not to be deviated from his natural demeanor because of a few crocodile tears.

"Ludwig? Do... you not remember me?"

It took a minute for Ludwig to actually find the cool baritone of his voice instead of the forceful shout itching up his throat. Laboriously he lifted his lids to unveil the deep blue glow. "N-Nien. I only know you as the heir to the Roman empire."

Feliciano gnawed at his lower lip, then slowly nodded in sad acceptance, standing up with a slump to his stance. A small smile lightly dusted his face, not as bright as the others the other man had seen. Ludwig almost choked on the growing lump in his throat. He swallowed thickly, standing up and turning to preoccupy himself with straightening out the quilt on his bed.

"I will have lunch ready soon then." Hearing no sound of movement toward the door, Ludwig nodded. Then the same scampering footsteps that ran after him as a child were speedily walking out the door.

Ludwig's unkempt hair fell forward as his head hung with an unaccepted guilt.


	7. Chapter 7

The Aryan actually had to blink twice to actually believe what he was seeing. The Italian boy that had left his room sulking only twenty minutes before, was actually singing, bouncing, and cooking with a blinding smile tearing his face in two.

Pasta filled the air with a delectable fragrance. It steamed from the cooking pot through the luscious unlit candle chandeliers and directly into the blonde's senses. His mouth salivated, he suddenly forgot the last time he had a meal that did not involve some unknown animal parts. He hadn't even realized that his eyes were shut and he was sniffing at the air excessively, like the pasta was being digested through his nostrils.

Then Feliciano reached the highest note of the Italian folk song he had been so charmingly screeching so loudly that it was a wonder as to how his throat wasn't in shreds. He winced with a lopsided twitch in his face; he rubbed his eyes wearily, trying to get his head in the right place.

Feliciano twirled on his toes, stopping in his tracks once a golden glint flitted into his vision. His smile somehow became wider at the sight of the tall, scowling man. "Ve~! Luddy! The pasta isn't—"

"_Was_? Nien! You will address me as Ludwig only." The blonde marched his heavy steps until he was directly in front of the littler one. His height towers the bubbly beaming Italian.

Feliciano giggles, then mimics the stiff man's stance, and then pulls his hand up in a mock salute. "Yes sir, Luddy sir!" He then falls into a fit of endearing laughs and titters.

Ludwig narrows his eyes, an irritated growl vibrating his throat. He seized the brunette by his collar, earning a startled squeak from him. He stared down into wide eyes, trying his hardest to keep his hard exterior.

Then he saw the same amber shining through those lovely caramel eyes and a pang of nostalgia made his surface soften. He pushed the boy away and turned his head away embarrassedly.

He told himself that he was angrier about the carelessness of losing his temper, thus risking the mission rather than the actual fact that he still hadn't built some immunity to the strange boy's character. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, refusing with his iron will that he had any soft spot in his carefully chiseled and defined body.

A light weight was handled onto his shoulder, he turned with interest and found those sweet honey eyes staring into his with an apology already visible. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed with discomfort.

"I was only playing with Ludwig. _Mi dispiace_," His hand slid away and his head tilted curiously, "Why does Ludwig turn away so much?"

Again the Aryan swallowed heavily. His eyes were attracted to the one's across from him, as if some magnetic force was pushing their gazes together. A strong magnet that wont let him turn away from that addictive stare. His hand moved to the back of his neck without thinking and he opened his mouth to answer.

Only to be prohibited by a thundering slam and a shouting spew of Italian curses, followed by what sounded like Spanish pleadings.

"Lovi! Slow down!"

"No! You fucking tomato bastard! Stay away from me you pervert!"

"But you kissed back! I do not understand—"

"I didn't fucking kiss back you bastard! St-Stop lying!"

Into the kitchen a boy speed walked with his fists curled at his thighs, a curly haired Spaniard with a distressed plea on his face following close behind. The boy that looked like he was about blow with steam stopped as soon as he saw what was in front of him. The Spanish man nearly tumbled into him, but caught his footing, and then looked up to see what the other was now staring at with a scary amount of shock.

That large abundance of surprise turned into a lethal amount of anger in timing with the intense crimson that stained his face. He added the physical features of the man; blonde hair, blue eyes… In an eruption of curses and anger his legs made a move to run and his fists flung in the air, before the Spaniard grabbed the back of his neckline.

"Who the fuck is this potato bastard? Mother fucker! Let me rip his ugly potato eating face off! Piece of shit! Get the hell away from him, Feli!" He wailed and thrashed and wailed and thrashed more in the surprisingly strong arms of the Spaniard. The green-eyed man grimaced and whipped his head to the side, narrowly missing an elbow jab to the eye.

Ludwig could only stare at the sight being played out before him, it was a humorous struggle and he was unafraid of the raging Italian, but _why_ he had lashed out confounded him. Feliciano just stared dumbly at his brother, also if not more confused as to why the boy had started acting out. "Ve~ Fratello?"

The implied question was answered with a snarled threat that made even Ludwig cough to hide his stunned gasp. Thankfully the taller man holding him with a steel grip came to their aid.

"I am sorry for this," The Spanish man shouted over the hollering profanities, "Lovi just means to say hello! We will be down when the pasta is ready!" It was an incredible feet that the brunette had actually succeeded in dragging the now bighting and scratching twin away to the doorway.

Ludwig looked to the unfazed Italian with a slight gape to his mouth. The boy just tilted his head upward with the childish smile to his face, and then with a small skip he continued his cooking.

If it weren't for the same appearance, Ludwig would have never guessed that they were even close to related.

"What the hell is wrong with you, tomato bastard?" Lovino jabbed his index finger right into Antonio's chest, his other hand still clenched in a tightly wound fist. He pushed away from the opposing man and threw his hands in the air with unquenched fury, scoffing loudly.

He ignored the mess in his room as he paced past his and Feliciano's massive and extravagant beds. The windows poured the sunlight in, illuminating the distressed wrinkles on Lovino's youthful face. Antonio followed the shadows dancing around the young boy's curved bones that protruded beautifully from his cheeks.

"There is an Aryan in our home! The fucking potato eater might have already killed my idiot brother!" He turned back, the rage again pointed to Antonio, "_È stupido stronzo—"_

Two firm and tan hands grabbed his waist and pulled him into a delving kiss. It caught both of them in surprise. But before he could get a handle on his normally rough, no-touchy attitude, Lovino was caressing the other's lips with an uncharacteristic amount of gentleness. His fists uncoiled and wrapped themselves around the taller's bicep and elbow.

Antonio, to Lovino's displeasure, was the one who pulled away, humming with a smile. "You didn't let me finish the last time." He said tracing the smaller's cheekbone with his knuckle.

A hearty laugh caused the both of them to turn to the door where Romulus' amused grin awaited them. "I knew you were a smartass from the beginning Antonio." He chuckled again, walking into the room.

They both had their faces several shades of red, but Antonio just smiled and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly while Lovino turned his head to the side. His grandfather had impeccable timing. He huffed and rolled his eyes only to halt his visible irritancy, he snapped his head back, the blush fading back into golden skin.

"Who is that—that ugly _Aryan_ with Feli? Are you not aware that your grandson is spending time with the _enemy_?" The humor was sucked out of the room.

Romulus looks too deep in thought to even become aware that he was being back-talked by his grandchild. He looks at the wall above Lovino's head and sighs deeply. After a short decisive moment he looks into the same eyes that his daughter once had.

"Yes, but we are in debt to him. He saved your brother from a burning building—"

Lovino takes a breath to protest that statement, but Romulus holds his hand up.

"He's not only the commander of the Germanian Empire, but also next in line after Folkert…and he's a runaway." He walked closer, Antonio just staring from the side and keeping his mouth shut to not interrupt the two Italians. "We can gain enough information about Germania's weakness. Then our empire's growth would be much more easily accessible." The handsome man had an abundance of confidence. His plan working itself through his eyes, an idealistic outcome behind those brown orbs.

Lovino narrowed his eyes suspiciously. It was very odd how his grandfather was so eager to keep such a risk. "Do you not think that he could be lying? Maybe a spy?"

The elder just smirked and looked up at the same wall he was staring at before. "Then we shall watch what we say, no?"


	8. Chapter 8

He swore he could hear his bed calling his name, that or the awkward dinner table was actually driving Ludwig to insanity. He had still yet to come to a decision if he appreciated Feliciano's _never-ending_ rant about pasta or if the image of strangling the boy was becoming more appealing for an explicit reason. Out of the silent hatred secreting from two of the five occupants, the glare searing his whole being from Lovino, the gnawing paranoia, and the irritation that is Feliciano's voice, the only bright side to this whole dining was the surprisingly good pasta.

It was an abundant amount of pasta, more than he has ever seen and could probably last them the whole week, but it tastes as though it had been made specifically to fit his taste buds. It seemed as though it was fashioned by an artist, paying attention to exactly each individual noodle while generating the most delicate sweet meaty sauce. Every bight had his mouth watering for more, but how had the babbling idiot next to him actually have the diligence to create such a miracle?

"So Ludwig, how long did you have your job as commander for the Germanian army?" Feliciano had just started his rant on the difference between tomato sauce and meat sauce when Romulus cut in not regarding his grandson's pout and shift to respectable silence.

Ludwig slurped the end of the noodle he had been working on, heat of embarrassment raising to his cheeks, then chewed and swallowed hastily. He coughed, maybe a little too hastily.

"Er…I have been in command since I was eighteen, so for six years…sir. Though my brother had been commander for three years before I was moved to his position." It unnerved him that the whole table went silent while he was speaking. He always hated being the center of attention. That was always Gilbert's favorite pastime.

Romulus watched him carefully for a second before asking his next question. Ludwig silently hoped it would be the last. "Oh? So what does your brother do now? If I am correct I don't even remember knowing if Folkert had a second son." He scratched at his stubble covered chin lazily.

Even though he had four pairs of eyes on him, he could distinctly feel Feliciano's bubbling curiosity looking to him for intriguing answers about his_wonderful and adventure filled_ life. The Aryan was not surprised that the Italian had not strewn together that he was not a flamboyant child like he may be.

"Yes, not many people care to know about Gilbert. He is very…dependent and gets into trouble more often than not," He allows himself a strained smile, hopefully making the conversation light, "and he is in a lower ranking than me. He is the sergeant of our troops."

This wasn't a lie. He just left out the details of _how_ his brother had lost so much respect from their father.

His defensive walls start to come up; Romulus was inspecting his whole self with a hard, invasive look that puzzled him. He knew that the Emperor was obviously suspicious and unlike his two grandsons, he was not blinded by anger or childishness. That was why he had to be very elusive with his words around the elder, rather than laying back like with Feliciano. It was the only reason he preferred Feliciano's company to anyone else's…

"Mm, you must have some enviable ability to have gotten so far at a young age. That or your brother had to have been very incompetent and irresponsible." The man's laugh sounded deep and hearty.

Ludwig chuckled sheepishly, then returned back to his food with a missing appetite. "Ve~! Has Ludwig used a sword before?"

Lovino slapped his forehead with his palm and muttered, "Idiota…" while Antonio just tittered at the adorable twin.

The blonde in question had a perplexed, neutral face wondering to himself if Feliciano was truly serious. "Ja…I have used a sword several times."

Feliciano gasped with theatrics, his eyes becoming shiny amber saucers and they reflected wonderfully when he turned, giving Ludwig only his profile. The boy looked to his grandfather with high hopes and a plea for consent. "Nonno! Maybe Luddy—"

"_Ludwig!_"

"—can teach me how to use a sword?" The table, if possible, became more silent and awkward than before. Lovino's silver fork drops on the fine glass plate with a loud clang and his mouth hangs open like Romulus'.

It was true that at a young age, the king had been trying to teach his grandson how to fight properly in case he found himself in a tight situation. Though Feliciano, unlike his brother, had a sensitive complex. He would break down crying every time he would scrape the wooden dummy and retreat back to his room with no intention of leaving it the rest of the day. Romulus had thought that it might have been his teaching methods, but after asking Lovino and a long list of guards to help him with his training, he had come to the conclusion that his grandchild might have a little too much of his mother in him.

Though training was not the only thing that seemed to puncture his fragility, also when Romulus would take him hunting, or if he talks about his own memories in battle, or if he scolded him for his clumsiness when he breaks dishes, or even the smallest mention of his parents. Using his experience to his knowledge, he had given up on trying to make Feliciano into a fighter. Instead he had gone a different rout.

Romulus had been invited to visit one of the greatest painters in all of northern Italy to have a portrait done of himself. It had been a particularly bad morning, Feliciano had started sobbing when he caught his grandfather drowning a rat found in the kitchen and had once again locked himself in his quarters. With exasperation he used the time posing (uncomfortably) for the painting to think about what he was going to do with his little Feli.

It was like a burst of ideas came from a small thought. He had never entertained the idea of Feliciano's creativity to be useful, but it kept him productive and busy while he was focusing more on his brother's skills. The mural that Feliciano had created the first time he had painted was awe-inspiring. The sound of his own breath hitching never registered in the moment that the beautiful painting was unveiled. He still has the painting of their home in the sunset hanging in his own bedroom and every night he looks to it with a smiling face, because he could still see Feliciano beaming proudly instead of frowning with disappointment like when he fought.

He wished though, that his grandson would be more like Lovino. Painting may keep his time preoccupied, but it did nothing for his empire. It sometimes angered him when he thought like that, feeling selfish, but it was the truth. His grandson had talent, but a useless one.

This is kept in the back of his mind and is a large influence to his answer. His old, but attentive eyes flick to Ludwig. The blonde's eyebrow is raised, his head turned toward Feliciano with a questioning gaze. Romulus looks back at his pouting grandson.

He clears his throat, looking at his plate then back up at Ludwig. "Oh I am sure Ludwig would not mind that."

The Aryan's head snaps toward him, a flash of disbelief covered immediately. The underlying threat in his words makes Ludwig think over his own before he speaks. Plus the narrowed stare from the intimidating old man was putting him off slightly.

Then somehow the situation becomes less hostile when those wonderful orbs are on him again. Feliciano smiles obliviously and bounces in his seat. The blonde swallows the lingering taste of his pasta. "O-Oh…I-I'm not as capable as—"

"Great! So Feli will wake you up at dawn!"


	9. Chapter 9

So so so so so so sorry about the lateness.

I hope you all know that i will NEVER EVER give up on this story. I love it way to much to abandon it :)

Thanks so much and i hope you enjoy!

* * *

Sleeping was the proper way to gain energy and strength for the day's events. It reenergizes and allows oneself to become more efficient and alert. Without the sufficient amount of sleep, going through the normal daily routine can be a workload and puts a hard amount of pressure on the body and mind.

Ludwig has known this from a young age, so he makes it his priority to sleep early and wake up early. His internal clock is so determined on keeping him sleeping until the morning light that he can't remember the last time he had woken in the middle of the night to anything, and that's surprising since Gilbert lives under the same roof as him.

So when he wakes up, in a slight muddled state, in the midst of darkness, he is puzzled as to why he had been disturbed from his obstinate sleep.

…That is until he feels a warm puff of air on his naked shoulder.

"_Scheiße!_" Ludwig bolted up, Feliciano's head plummeting off of his shoulder and on to the mattress below. His honey eyes flew open wide with terror and he too sat upright, latched onto his bicep, and babbled urgent questions and something about someone stealing his pasta.

"Feliciano!? What are you doing in mien bed?" He barked, grabbing the boy's wrist and wrenching it from his arm.

Feliciano looked like his whole mind reset on itself. His face blanched, and then in a blink, he was smiling brightly. In the back of his mind, Ludwig could say it was cute…until the boy's mouth unhinged to rant incessantly. "Ve! Fratello isn't in his bed and I saw this mouse run under my bed and I got scared because I thought it would try to eat me while I was sleeping and I don't know if its still there, it was really small and white and cute, but Nonno says that mice are disease ridden and that it can kill me if it bites me so I didn't want it to bite me! Have you ever been bitten by a mouse? Does it hurt? Did you die? Did it hurt to die? Because I would—"

"FELICIANO!" _Gott_ it is too early (or late) for this. He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing what seemed to be the beginning of a headache to go away. "Because of you I have to wake up early in the morning and now _because of you_ I will be too tired to even have the brain power to train you! Now it is late and you are a grown man and—"

…His head lifted and his eyes narrowed.

"Feliciano…why are you in only your undergarments?" The younger giggled, uncaring of the evident discomfort practically emanating from the older.

"Why would I sleep in my clothes, silly?"

Ludwig's eyebrow twitched. He opened his mouth, then decided he was way too tired to list the many problems with what he had just uttered. With a small growl and finally a sigh, he shook his head and fell back into the mattress. "Stay on your side." He grumbled into his pillow.

"Ve~ Good night, Luddy." With a contented smile, Feliciano rested his head against his own pillow and let his mind wonder.

Ludwig was scary, no doubt. Physically and emotionally, the Aryan was intimidating. His large and bulging muscles along with his stone cold expression had frightened the Italian. But it also ignited some sort of thrill and appeal, as if the coldness of this stoic man was _attractive_. Now Feliciano couldn't deny that Ludwig himself is a handsome man. That body may be mountainous, but _dio_ if it wasn't sexy. Plus those harsh eyes that could freeze fire sent countless shivers down his frail spine. His golden hair that slicked back toward the curve of his skull enhanced not only his jaw, but his cheekbones as well.

He was so serious and boring though! Feliciano didn't even know it was possible for someone to have the will power to not be tempted into giving into such alluring opportunities to have fun. His own life was filled with activities that left him laughing or beaming, whether it be singing or making pasta, it was fun and what he loved to do. Yes, his grandfather has tried to push him to be a bit more serious about his position, but it wasn't his fault he would be deviated to do something careless.

The thought trailed him into thinking of tomorrow's coming endeavors. He was excited, very much so, to spend some more time with Luddy. He could get to know him better! Maybe learn about the man that is underneath that hard rock, maybe even the boy that had played tag with him all those years ago. He nearly groaned, why did they have to bond over something so violent as sword fighting though?

Perhaps he could teach Ludwig how to paint? Or maybe they could go to the beach and play in the water later on! He could show him how to catch kitties and let them go using pasta as bait. Hopefully he could get him to smile or even laugh. How sweet that would be? To hear the man laugh like the child he had met in years past.

It would be wonderful. The peaceful beam became vibrant before he wafted into the lull of sleep.

"Oh please Sadiq! I-I said…they-they! I don't know!"

His snarled lip was the only feature on his masked face showing the sign of his anger. "You said that you had witnessed Ludwig Beilschmidt, son of Folkert Beilschmidt, entering the home of Romulus Vargas? That is what you said, no?"

The spy shook with terror at the feet of his leader. "Y-Yes, I swear. The…he-he…Ludwig has been seen carrying…th-the…Feliciano into h-his home after some…some sort of a-accident. Please sir, you must believe me!" He pleaded; his hands wringing the Sultan's pant leg.

With a long sigh, Sadiq Annan stood from his throne. He patted the poor man's head and looked down at him through the blank sockets of his mask. "Yes, yes I believe you," He signaled to the closest guard, "But it doesn't mean you get to live."

The man's eyes protruded from his head, his wails and pleas went ignored by the cruel Sultan. He slumped back into his thrown, lazily drinking his untouched wine. "…So Folkert and Romulus have allied…looks like the Ottomans need to catch up…or maybe slow down those idiots' paces."

His eyes wandered to the drawn picture of the two heirs in his hand. With an unkind smile, he swigged the rest of his wine.

"No you are doing it all wrong. Your wrist must be parallel to the ground below, not curving toward the sky!"

"Si, that is what I'm doing!"

"No! Stop trying—Feliciano! Don't swing the sword when no one is attacking you!"

"Ve~ its so hot, can we go inside now?"

Ludwig's cerulean eyes rolled, this man was impossible. He wouldn't listen, he dropped the sword at least a dozen times (at least ten of those times he had nearly impaled his or Ludwig's foot), his stance is unbalanced, and the idiot wouldn't stop interrogating him on the most trivial questions. Why was he so desperate to know his favorite color? Gott this whole 'spying' thing is more work than he could have possibly trained for.

Fighting he can do, training he can do, running and killing he can do. Babysitting this royal fool was something that could not be fitted into his catalogue of abilities. _For the sake of my empire I can not kill him. For the sake of my empire I can not kill him._ He repeated the mantra in his head, hoping it stabilizes his sanity.

"Luddy? Do you like kitties or doggies?"

_I mustn't kill him…mustn't kill him…_

He ignored the question entirely and went on straightening the Italian's bent elbow with a firm scowl. He could feel the disappointment from being ignored being given off, he also disregarded that. He frowned though…something in his chest ached with a familiar pang of guilt.

"Ve~Luddy doesn't like me much, does he?" Feliciano said with a dejected look.

Ludwig was taken by surprise; he certainly hadn't expected that. In his perspective of the boy, he took it the Italian thought everyone liked him no matter what. He sputtered out a scoff, his expression changing from soft to angry.

"I-I…don't…erm," He took a step back and thought carefully, "I don't…not like you…ja"

He studied the younger for a moment, the morning sun drenching his olive skin with golden highlights. His odd little curl bounced as he turned his body toward Ludwig. Then with a smile rivaling the sun framing them, he stepped closer to the blushing blonde.

"I like you very much Ludwig," He tentatively wrapped his arms around the Aryan, "I'm very happy you were the one to save me."

And without any protest from his conscious, he in turn hugged the smaller in what he felt to be a loving embrace. "…Ja…me too."

They pulled away and with an awkward clear of his throat, Ludwig went back to fixing Feliciano's posture.


	10. Chapter 10

Im not dead!

Any way I'm really sorry for the wait! I hope you all are still interested, because i sure as hell am! I love this story so much!

Thank you for the faves, follows, reviews, or even just reading!

-vv

* * *

The next morning Ludwig had experienced yet again the marvel of waking up next to a gently snoring Italian. His eyes still heavy, he groaned and rolled onto his back, his stiff hands coming to his eyes and rubbing furiously at the remaining sleep. Feliciano was glued to his arm, forcing Ludwig to either risk waking him up or not to move until the brunette got up.

By the sound of the labored breathing he was going to be there for a while. Taking the risk is definitely worth it. With the mindset of a feather, he pulled the covers off and slid cautiously out of the lush bed. The younger snorted then mumbled something to do with the British while pulling the covers over his bony shoulders.

Fighting not to make a sound, Ludwig stared down at the slumbering boy. He had such a sweet expression; almost angelic with brown lashes feathering his cheek and even a tiny tug at the corners of his soft pink lips… Immediately Ludwig shook the thought out of his head, compelling himself to stand flat on his feet.

Ludwig took note that Feliciano was a heavy sleeper. He moved without anymore worry of being too loud throughout the room to get dressed. Once he was done, while lighting the candle in a dusty lantern, he left the room.

_Now time to get some info..._

From what he could see through the glass window nearest to him, the light from the outside was a bluish purple peaking out from grey clouds. It must be early in the morning, perhaps even before dawn.

He walked down the corridor, entering a desolate, but grand, hallway. The guards were stalking about so he had to be on alert. Damn those overly protective watch dogs. He grit his teeth and held the lantern close, hoping no men were near by. He moved down the hall, memorizing each and every door that he passed. None stood out so far…

"Did you see that light?" Someone shouted from behind him.

He let out a curse, blew the candle out, and blindly sprinted down the hall, hoping to find somewhere to hide. Of course it was his luck that there was barely any light to depend on. There were footsteps pounding on the wooden floors behind him. He could hear the metal of their armor clanging and even some swords unsheathing. Getting closer…

He kept his eyes in front of him, but a small light was reeled in by the peripheral of his vision. He had almost missed the small entrance. It was like a mini walkway, short and almost hidden. He looked left to right. Judging by the sounds of metal clanking and men shouting, he had no choice.

He bounded through the entrance. There he waited for the voices to come. He stood with his back against the wall, heart pounding and breathing ragged. As the men's sounds came closer, he held his breath.

"The intruder went this way!" With that they had passed Ludwig. To his luck, they failed to glance back. His chest deflated as he let out his held breath. He looked down the mini walkway with interest. It was too hidden away to be innocent. There was a fickle orange light streaming through the crack under the door. He quietly walked to the door; these floors were louder than Feliciano. He pushed his ear up to the wooden planks.

There were no voices, but he could hear something akin to air puffing. He listened more intently and he realized that it was actually someone snoring. His mouth twisted, he slowly unlatched the metal hook that kept the door closed.

The dim light unveiled the maps covering the walls of the room. Like the war-room in his home, in the center was a table with a larger more detailed map than the ones on the walls. His eyes surveyed the map, red paint markings areas near the Ottoman Empire. That was odd…

A brief snort sounded from behind him, he turned abruptly and his fists cuffed in front of him. The oil lamp on the table flickered shadows across Romulus' face. The man had his arms folded underneath his chin, his mouth lulled open and breathing loudly. Ludwig's body relaxed from its stiff stance. He watched the Emperor's face closely; he could kill him now if wanted to. Hell, he could burn down the whole mansion and end the chances for the heirs ultimately terminating the royal lineage and hopefully crumbling the Roman Empire. Who cares if he is caught and hung for it, Germania would prosper without him...

He didn't realize he had moved closer to the desk or the fact that his hand was unconsciously resting on the handle of the oil lamp. _I can stop this idiot from taking over…and his two equally dummkopf sons…_

The image of Feliciano hugging him the previous day had come to the front of his mind.

_I like you very much Ludwig…_

His closed fist flew off the handle and he nearly stumbled back, what the hell was he thinking? Killing Feliciano? He felt vile; he could feel his stomach flipping painfully almost like he was going to retch. No one had ever liked Ludwig, all his life he only had respect, not friends. Ludwig knew he was intimidating and maybe not the most lenient person, but he was lonely. He didn't even have a lover; even his brother had a Hungarian woman! _Then again I've never really noticed any women that appeal to me…_

_Nien, I need to focus…_ This time he turned while making sure to keep quiet. He scanned the room again and the numerous maps of European countries that made them up. He was annoyed that this 'war room' was so cluttered, but he forced himself to ignore the mess for the sake of his sanity.

Okay maybe he should start with the map in the middle of the room—

"What are you doing in here Ludwig?"

His eyes widened, curse his inability to remember he wasn't alone! He swallowed the nerves in his throat, keeping his composure. "I was l-looking for a-a better sword for Feliciano, the one we used yesterday for him is hurting his shoulder."

Romulus looked down at him with a look that would make even Ivan of Russia run wailing like a baby. Ignoring the way he shivered (not with fright of course!), Ludwig held his stony face. He would be as good as dead if he shows any sign he's lying.

The elder hummed, his hand coming to rub curiously at his fuzzy chin. His eyes brightened like Feliciano's and he bellowed out a laugh, "Oh my poor boy! Here, I'll give you a light one." His broad and heavy form sauntered to the other side of the room where a large armory hung. He swung one of the doors open while whistling a tune loudly.

"You know Ludwig me and your father were one good friends…" He said with an absent tone. Ludwig's looked at the back of the man peculiarly. He cleared his throat and answered: "Yes I know that sir."

Again the elder hummed as he trailed his fingers down the hanging swords. "Ah! I think this should be a good weight for my little Feli to handle." He brought the elegant sword to Ludwig. The blonde inspected it with delicacy, the sword was beautifully crafted. The blue velvet that covered the hand had gold strands sown in the threads to make a design of birds flying. It was fit for a king or in this case Feliciano.

"A-ah thank you..sir."

"You know, you and Feliciano remind me of when me and Folkert had just started dating!" Ludwig almost dropped the sword on his feet, he sputtered out fragments of words.

"_Was!?_" He had to have heard that wrong…

"Si! Except I was the one tutoring Folkert on how to handle a sword, but not a sword like the one your holding~" He winked lewdly at the horrified Aryan.

"Uh-ah…F-Feli…I mean Prince Feliciano and I are not-ah…" He just gave up on talking because this was something even he was not prepared for. Romulus slapped his shoulder (Ludwig wont admit that it hurt a lot more than he would have expected) and gave a hearty laugh.

The elder stopped his chortle abruptly and through clenched teeth he said, "But Ludwig I swear to Dio I will slice your head off if you dare hurt my grandson."

That was when Ludwig choked out a good bye and sped out of the room. He couldn't possibly imagine his father…and…and Romulus…

_Mien Gott I need a distraction_

Being tackled by a half-naked Italian wasn't his idea for a proper distraction. Of course what could he expect when it comes to Feliciano…

He walked into the room thinking that the brunette was still slumbering peacefully, but before he got two steps into the room, something lunged into his arms. The sword dropped to the floor, but the blubbering prince hadn't noticed. Feliciano's hair curl tickled his nose making him scrunch his face up and tip his head as far as he could. Feliciano's mouth was going a mile a minute, "Ludwig! Ludwig! I had such a bad dream about an English man feeding me his food and it was old pasta, but the pasta was burnt and gross and I hated it, but he wouldn't let me go and then the pasta started moving and it turned into a ghost and I got scared and then I woke up and I didn't see you with me and I missed you!"

How many of these childish rants is he supposed to endure on a daily basis around here? He wonders if there is any intellectual thought inside of the pasta lover's mind. _Probably not._Ludwig grunted, finally able to push Feliciano back, he looked down at the teary-eyed boy and rolled his eyes. "I was just getting you a new sword…" The boy cocked his head.

"Ve~ why? I like the one I have already…"

"B-Because you needed a new one!" He roughly pushed his way into the room. Feliciano's pouted then his smile was slapped right back on. "Okay! If Luddy says I need one then…I guess I need one!"

_Augh, damn guilt! go away! I have broken men's fingers just for missing training and yet a harmless lie is eating my conscious? This is ridiculous._ He inwardly groaned. "Come now, we have to work on your form more."

Folkert stared warily at the scrawled message on the thin and damp paper. His whole body became stiff, brittle bones shuddering slightly. He hadn't expected this and he was once afraid to say his empire was not prepared. However he was trapped in a corner and it seemed that he had only one choice.

Taking in a soft breath, the emperor of Germania looked up at the messenger. "Tell Gilbert to move the troops down southward, the Ottomans have declared war." He violently crumpled the paper in a ball and tossed it across the room.


End file.
